


but the gun still rattles

by mindelan



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Fix-It, Force-Sensitive Jyn Erso, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, Injury, Serious Injuries, Suicidal Thoughts, Torture, and there's a happy ending bc this is a fix it !!, i added an epilogue that's hurt/comfort btw, the first 3/4 of this are pretty angsty and the last 1/4 is hurt/comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-05
Updated: 2017-09-16
Packaged: 2018-12-23 21:41:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11998497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mindelan/pseuds/mindelan
Summary: What's supposed to be a simple reconnaissance mission ends up going terribly wrong when Jyn is recognized by a ghost from her past.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> title taken from "spirits" by the strumbellas
> 
> first, i posted this originally on friday (i think ??) as a four chapter fic. i took that down soon after bc i decided that this would be better as a longer oneshot, so anyone who's read the first chapter, i've added the 2-4 chapters to this long work.
> 
> second, there is a brief torture scene about a third of the way through. it's bracketed off with lines at the beginning and the end and it's not explicit. i wrote it in a prose sort of way that's different from the rest of the story, but just a heads up! if that makes anyone nervous, you can skip it no problem and continue on w/ the rest of the fic

If Jyn had to pick a least favorite planet, she'd choose Scarif without hesitation. Most of it is gone now, destroyed by the Death Star, but that doesn't stop the nightmares and memories she sees burned into the back of her eyelids most nights.

Tamsye Prime would be second, but it's close. _Very_ close.

Jyn hates it here. Hates that the Imperials cracked down on the planet after nearly destroying it years ago, hates how everyone is so indifferent, apathetic, keeping their heads down and surviving one day at a time. Hates seeing her old self reflected back in every face they pass.

The weather here is absolute crap too; Bodhi had trouble dropping them off, barely managing to touch down without being swept away by the wind. It’s so kriffing hot she thinks that her skin is going to melt off. And it smells weird and her clothes are itchy and there might be sand in her eye, though it _is_ possible it’s only an eyelash.

But maybe she’s biased. Maybe she’s trying to think of minuscule complaints to distract her from the fact that every time she lets her thoughts wander, she sees herself at sixteen, crouched in a bunker with a blaster in her shaky hands, watching Saw take off in the shuttle and abandon her.

At the time she hadn’t know he wasn’t coming back. She should have, but she had let herself foolishly hope that he actually cared about her. So she waited until it was almost too late, escaped by the skin of her teeth, and cursed his name for years after.

She’s nervous. Jittery. Hasn’t felt this way in a long time. She thought she had got over it after talking to Saw on Jedha, but apparently not.

Cassian notices on the flight over, and she’s not surprised. Bodhi does too, asking her about her shaky hands and distracted answers. It’s obvious that she’s miles away (still in that bunker, all these years later) but she waves him off with a tight smile and tells him to tell her about the ship to distract him. And that’s the end of it -- at least, she thinks so.

She should have known better.

“You’ve been here before,” Cassian observes. It’s not a guess.

She scowls, crossing her arms over her chest. Her gaze is pointedly forward, not wanting to look him in the eye. “Yes.”

She doesn’t elaborate any further. He only hums in acknowledgment, strapping his blaster to his belt. When he speaks again, it’s softer. More gentle. It’s not pity, but something else she doesn’t recognize. Understanding, maybe. “If you want, I can head out myself. You can stay with Bodhi.”

“I’m fine, Cass,” she mutters, wiping a hand across her brow. It comes away wet with sweat. “Let’s get going, okay?”

The sooner they’re off this planet, the better.

“Jyn,” he says, grabbing her wrist and tugging her back to him. She lets him. “You don’t have to tell me. But I want to make sure you’re all right.”

She bites her lip, debating on whether or not to say anything. Apparently she’s not as good at hiding herself around him as she thought. “I was left here.”

His grip grows tighter, his mouth twists. He knows what she’s talking about immediately, which is a relief. She doesn’t think she’d be able to say anymore about it, not here -- even years later, the memory still pains her. It’s a dull knife twisting her in stomach. “Saw.”

“Yeah,” she mutters grimly, tugging out of his grip. “Let’s get going. I hate this kriffing planet.”

He doesn’t push the issue. She’s grateful for that.

It’s been a long time since Jyn’s been on an Intelligence mission. She works almost exclusively with the Pathfinders now and only occasionally with Han Solo. But Draven had requested her specifically, according to Cassian, and she thinks the general knows more about her past than he lets on.

Supposedly, there’s a rebel cell here. Her and Cassian are under strict orders to observe and see if it’s worth the Rebellion’s aid. Basically, their word determines whether or not the rebels on Tamsye Prime get supplies from the Alliance.

It’s eerily similar to the mission she went on with Saw seven years ago. The mission that ended up with her all on her own.

_(looking back, maybe she should have stayed on the ship.)_

For a planet that’s strictly under the Empire’s thumb, the main street is loud and bustling. There’s people all around them, talking, yelling, pushing them aside. Jyn thinks there’s some sort of fight happening to her left and she almost gets knocked into it until Cassian tugs her away.

Despite the noise, she hears the shout loud and clear.

“Liana Hallik!”

To her credit, she barely flinches. Cassian shoots her a look -- _“you okay?”_ \-- and she nods, too quickly, tugging him forward. He touches his ear briefly, presumably fiddling with his comlink.

She doesn’t pay it much mind. All she can focus on getting out of here. She doesn’t look back, doesn’t acknowledge she recognizes the speaker. A small, foolish part of her hopes that this will be the end of it. They have a mission, they need to complete it.

Of course, Jyn’s never been that lucky.

“Don’t try me, Hallik,” the speaker sneers, grabbing Jyn’s arm. Jyn jerks around, suddenly face to face with a ghost she had hoped died long ago. “We’re _friends,_ remember?”

Friends are the last thing they are, made obvious when the stormtroopers flanking her move to restrain both Jyn and Cassian. When she struggles to get out of their grip, the two ‘troopers holding her only tighten it.

“Still a fighter, I see.”

Commander Solange is almost a head taller than her, looming over Jyn’s small form. Besides the new scar bisecting her eyebrow, she looks the same as she did all those months ago when her and the admiral went against their word and locked her up in Wobani.

“Please,” Cassian pleads, slipping into an identity Jyn doesn’t recognize. He doesn’t try to fight the stormtroopers, but instead sags in their arms. “What is this about? My wife and I are just passing through.”

Before she can react, the ‘trooper next to him slams the butt of their rifle into Cassian’s temple. He lets out a groan of pain, his knees giving out.

“What the _hell_ \-- “

Jyn sees red, straining to attack the soldier who hit Cassian. But Solange reaches forward and grips Jyn’s chin in her hands. “I’ll kill him if you don’t cooperate. Let’s play nice, shall we, Liana?”

Jyn wants to spit at her feet, but the ‘troopers are armed to the teeth and she doubts they’ll hesitate to shoot her if she does anything rash. It’s been some time, but the slip into Liana Hallik is almost seamless. “What do you want? Got another gambling problem?”

“I’ve been stationed here for a while. This is just a routine patrol.” Solange replies evenly, taking a step forward. Jyn has to crane her head up to look her in the eye. “The Empire relocated me after the mess on Five Points. Supposedly there are lots of rebels in this area.”

“Are there?” Her voice betrays nothing. Liana Hallik doesn’t care about anyone except for herself. Certainly not a small, unorganized resistance.

_(jyn erso, on the other hand, wonders just how much the empire knows about the rebellion here. too bad that not who she is right now.)_

“Don’t pretend, Hallik,” Solange says. “A little bird told me you escaped prison and joined up with them.”

“Please,” Jyn scoffs, rolling her eyes. Her face is a portrait of nonchalance, but her heart is racing, pulse hammering. _How much does she know? Does she know about Scarif? About Rogue One?_ If this puts the rest of her team in danger, she doesn’t think she could live with it. “You and I both know I’m not one for picking sides.”

“And we both know you only do things for money. We’re cut from the same cloth, hmm?” Solange says wryly, as if they’re two friends chatting over a cup of tea. “So you say you’re not in the Rebellion, fine,” when Jyn opens her mouth to argue, Solange holds up a hand, “but you’re clearly not in Wobani anymore. And if I recall correctly, there’s a hefty bounty on all escaped prisoners.”

“There was a security breach,” Jyn snaps. Her hands itch for her blaster, for her truncheons, for a weapon. She’s defenseless and she doesn’t like it, especially when she knows how far Solange will go for credits. “I took advantage of it.”

The Imperial woman purses her lips in thought. There’s a sour taste in the back of Jyn’s throat; she has a sinking suspicion that she’s said the wrong thing. “I heard about that. But it seems kind of odd that the rebels would only take you, don’t you think?”

Behind her, she feels Cassian stiffen. She doesn’t need to see his face to know that he’s worried, but he doesn’t say anything. He trusts her to take care of this, and she hopes that his faith isn’t misplaced.

“The Empire was going to kill me before I ever finished my time there,” she replies in an off-hand way, as if her dying in prison would be no big deal. “The Rebellion wanted me to fight for them. I didn’t agree. So I stole a ship and left.”

For a moment, Jyn thinks that she believes it. After all, it’s not too far from the truth. But a woman like Solange would never have risen so high up in the Empire’s ranks if she wasn’t suspicious of the words of a seemingly petty criminal.

But she changes the subject instead of questioning it further, clearly expecting to throw Jyn off balance. She’s hoping that Jyn’ll slip up somewhere and admit her anti-Imperial ties. “Didn’t think you were the type to settle down, Hallik. He’s with the Rebellion?”

“Kriff no. It’s a marriage of convenience,” Jyn replies quickly (too quickly, a voice in the back of her mind says) but sticks with it. “There’s no love between us and he’s a good fuck. That’s all.”

“I work at the mines here,” Cassian says easily, his accent thicker than she’s ever heard it. This is natural for him, lying. Fitting into a persona. “I’m not a rebel.”

“For some reason, I’m not inclined to believe you.” Solange responds with a tilt of her head and a glint in her eyes. She makes a quick movement with her hand. When Jyn risks a quick glance behind her, one of the ‘troopers has his rifle pointed at Cassian’s chest. Her heart stutters.

“He’s nobody important, Solange. He works for the damn Empire. I needed to relieve some tension,” at that, she shrugs. “You know how it is. Just let him go.”

“Unless you want to die before we get to Wobani, it’s ‘sir’ to you, Hallik.”

“Let him go, _sir,”_ Jyn sneers.

“I would, but,” Solange spreads her hands out, as if there’s nothing she can do, “here’s the issue. I want the bounty on your head and I don’t want anyone coming after you. If he’s nobody, then it’s no big deal if I shoot him, hmm?”

Liana Hallik would agree. Liana Hallik wouldn’t care if Cassian died on the streets of Tamsye Prime and Solange knows it.

But Jyn Erso cares a lot.

“Why waste the bullets?” she says lazily, a hint of desperation lacing her tone. That small movement snaps one of the blasters in her direction. “Let him go. It’s me you want.” There’s an unspoken plea. _Let him live and I’ll come quietly._

Jyn Erso slips through there, at the end. There’s a crack in her voice that Liana Hallik would never make and her tone is a bit too pleading for a disdainful smuggler.

Solange notices -- of course she does. Jyn sees her response in her face, something along the lines of _“Why would I ever do that?”_

Then she raises her hand and flicks it forward, then there’s a blaster shot but it’s not her that’s getting hit, and she doesn’t need to look that it goes right into Cassian’s chest, and then there’s a _thump_ as his body hits the ground behind her. There’s no whimper of pain, he’s too well-trained for that, but Jyn thinks she can hear a small hitch in his breathing before it wheezes to a stop. It grows quieter, so quiet she can’t hear it over the rush of blood to her head, and then she can’t hear it at all.

He’s not breathing. He’s supposed to be breathing -- why isn’t he? Why isn’t he breathing? _She can’t hear him breathing._

_No. Not him._

She doesn’t even look back as her fingers curl into fists. Red hot fury consumes Jyn as she leaps forward seconds later and tackles Solange to the ground, having every intention to beat the other woman into a bloody pulp. She’s yelling but she doesn’t know what she’s saying, and there’s a lot of yelling that’s not coming from her, drawing a crowd around them.

There’s a voice that sounds like Saw’s in the back of her head, but it’s hard to hear over the noise. _You need to calm down, my child. Anger makes you reckless. Anger gets you killed._

She thinks, rather absently, as she slams a fist in Solange’s nose, that she wouldn’t mind that if it meant she would get to be with Cassian again.

But the stormtroopers behind her -- the stormtroopers who killed Cassian -- one of them hits her in the temple with the butt of their rifle and she falls unwillingly into darkness.

 

 

Jyn snaps back into reality when she’s nearly thrown across the floor. The ship she’s in is rattling and groaning with each second, sounding so broken that she wonders if it’ll fall apart before they reach the prison. The lighting is dim and flickering, but she can just make out the boxes and shelves in front of her. Some sort of cargo shuttle, then.

She begins assessing the problem rationally. She’s bound, with her arms are wrenched behind her back, restrained by binders that are a notch too tight. It’s going to be hard to get out of here with her hands behind her back. As far as injuries go, there’s nothing serious. Her head is aching and she can feel dried blood sticking to her temple and she _might_ be concussed but that’s fine. She doesn’t have a hole in her chest, not like --

Jyn thinks she’s going to vomit.

But she doesn’t. She doesn’t vomit. She lets herself cry, pulling her knees up to her chest so she can muffle her sobs, lets herself grieve, lets herself feel the pang in her heart. _Force._ It’s so hard to think about a life without him. She half expects him to march through the door any second now and pick the locks of the restraints around her wrists. Somehow miraculously be alive.

Then she remembers the sound that he made when he fell. And how he didn’t get back up again.

And Bodhi. Bodhi’s alone, sitting in the shuttle, waiting for them. It’s long past the time they were supposed to be back. She wonders if he left. Wonders if he went looking for them and found a body with a hole in his chest instead. She hopes he’s okay, that he’s safe. If she goes back to the Alliance after all this, it will be for him. For Bodhi and Chirrut and Baze.

Jyn wonders what she’ll tell K2-SO when he’s finally rebuilt. She wonders if she’ll even rebuild him or just leave him in pieces on their -- _hers,_ now -- desk.

She lets herself think about this things, each new thought leaving a hole in her heart that only grows bigger and bigger. He _left_ her. Not intentionally, like her mother and father and Saw, but now she’s alone.

 _Protect your heart. Close yourself off. They always leave in the end. And now you’re hurting because you’ve gotten soft, Jyn Erso. What would Saw say? What would Kestrel or Tanith or Liana do? Not fucking_ this.

So she lets herself grieve, but only for a few minutes. And then she shuts down.

She shoves him and all of her feelings into the cave in her mind and locks the hatch tight. This isn’t something she can think about now, not when she’s in the hands of the Empire. Later, later when she’s safe, she can cry. Later, she can think about a life without him.

Shutting her eyes, she takes a deep, shuddering breath, then leans her head back against wall she’s propped up against. Composes herself. Stops crying.

Solange walks in not a minute later, holding a datapad in one hand. “Good. You’re awake.”

Jyn doesn’t respond, doesn’t move. She can hear the sound of something being dragged across the floor, so she opens her eyes to see Solange settling herself in a chair directly across from her. There’s an angry looking bruise covering her nose; Jyn takes some satisfaction in that.

“This isn’t personal, you know?”

“Isn’t it?”

“I need the money. Finding you on Tamsye Prime was merely a coincidence. I can’t say I’d take you to be a rebel -- you’re not the type to pick sides, especially not after you sold out Blue -- but I suppose it’s possible. And the bounty on your head is so high.”

The guilt of that, of going behind Blue’s back and working with Rocwyn and Solange to protect her own skin, makes it hard to breathe. And even after being forced to betray a crew of people she had been beginning to trust, the Empire still locked her up.

“If you needed the money so badly, then why didn’t you ask me to splice you a few more game tokens?” Jyn snarls. “I did that for you back on Five Points.”

“You got _caught,_ ” Solange points out, her tone infuriatingly even. “Or do you not remember being tied up in Pso’s Palace?”

Jyn doesn’t grace that with a response.

Solange taps her right cheek with her finger, then gestures to Jyn. “Ran into some trouble in our time apart, I see.”

Her burns prickle on her skin, feeling hotter than usual. Suddenly she’s back on Scarif again, in that elevator, on the beach feeling the force of the explosion across her skin, but all it takes is a deep breath to steady herself and she’s back in the cargo bay again.

_(she’d rather be on scarif. she wasn’t alone on that beach, not like she is now.)_

“What do you want, Solange?” Jyn’s so kriffing tired. “Not surprisingly, I don’t want to chat. Leave me alone, yeah?”

“Don’t think so,” the Imperial says with a twist of her lips that’s probably supposed to be a smile. She stands up from her chair and grabs Jyn by the arm, pulling her up. “We’re just coming out of hyperspace. I thought you'd like to get the first glimpse of Wobani.”

This goes unspoken: _You got lucky last time, but there’s no rescue coming for you. You’re going to die here._

 

 

The warden bears no resemble to the man in white -- _Krennic, her mind supplies_ \-- but somehow she sees him anyway. It’s in the way he stands, how he looms over her when Solange drags her into the room and how he looks at her like she’s scum. That he’s better than her.

The room is blindingly white. There’s guards posted at the door, equipped with rifles and shock batons. If she’s going to fight her way out of here, then that’s going to be an issue.

“Warden Miran, sir,” Solange says, keeping a firm grip on Jyn’s bicep. “Liana Hallik. She escaped from prison a couple months ago during the rebel attack.”

“Hm. You tracked her down, then?”

“I recognized her on Tamsye Prime. We have a history together -- I was the one who put her here in the first place. I caught her during a patrol, sir.”

“You’ll want the credits, then.” At Solange’s curt nod, he pulls out a scanner. “Let me run her through the system and then you’ll get your bounty.”

“Thank you, sir.”

When Miran raises the facial recognizer up to her, her heart clenches. Right after Scarif, she remembers Draven saying something about how the Empire might recognize the people who stole the Death Star plans. If she’s recognized as Jyn Erso --

The butt of a rifle slams down between her shoulder blades when she tries to get out of Solange’s grip. Her breath catches, and she can barely clamp down on a cry when her knees give out and she hits the floor, hard.

Miran doesn’t seem concerned. Why would he be? He deals with this shit all the time. All he does is frown ever so slightly, the corner of his mouth turning downward as he moves out from behind his desk to get closer.

He bends to grab her chin and jerks her head upward. She can barely contain her shudder. “Liana Hallik,” he says, finally getting the results. His thumb brushes against the scars on her cheek ever so lightly. “You look a little worse for wear.”

Jyn pulls her chin out of his grasp and spits at his feet. For that, he backhands her across the face, sending her flying toward the ground. The copper taste of blood fills her mouth and her cheek is on fire. But even through the pain she can still his touch on her face and she wants to gag at the _wrongness_ of it all.

“Take her up top,” he says, nodding to the two guards at the door. She’s hauled unceremoniously to her feet. “Prep the droids. It’s been awhile since we’ve captured a rebel. Perhaps she has some new information for us.”

“I’m not a fucking rebel,” Jyn snarls, trying to lunge out of the guards’ grasp. They drag her to the door. “I have _nothing_ to do with them!”

“We’ll see about that,” he hums, setting the scanner back on the desk. An overwhelming want to carve him to pieces washes over her. “I’ll be up in a couple minutes. Oh, and Liana?”

She’s out the door at this point, but doesn’t look back. Doesn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing the fear in her eyes.

“Welcome home.”

As they drag her down the hallway, an echo of an old conversation repeats in her head.

 _“I'm not_ _used to people sticking around when things_ _go_ _bad_ _.”_

_“Welcome home.”_

* * *

The thing about torture --

it’s always the same.

Sometimes it’s droids, sometimes it’s a person with too many tools, sometimes it’s simply being shoved in a dark room without food or water, and sometimes it's manacles and chains, but they're all the same.

The shared purpose is that they want her to break, to tell her secrets, to shatter her in both body and spirit.

_i am one with the force the force is with me_

Here’s the thing: it’s been a long time since Jyn Erso’s been tortured. The Rebellion, she realizes later, has given her a sense of security. A place where she feels not quite safe but not in danger either. Most days, she doesn’t even think about running.

All lot of these feelings can be connected back to Cassian. But Cassian -- he’s not --

Cassian’s not around

anymore.

It’s been a long time since Jyn Erso’s been tortured. She’s never broken before. But she thinks, as the droid injects her with something that makes her blood boil, as she tastes blood in her mouth from nearly splitting her tongue in two, as the man in white asks her again and again about the Rebellion, she thinks that she might.

Maybe then they’ll kill her. She’ll feel guilt, of course, for betraying her friends, but at least she won’t have to worry about that for long. Neither will they.

Then she’ll be with Cassian. If she’s dead they’ll

be together again.

_i am one with the force the force is with me_

But she doesn’t break. Not when she curls up in her cell at night, not knowing what day it is and barely remembering who she is -- _Jyn Erso, your name is Jyn_ \-- and certainly not when the man in white tells the droids to increase the dosage.

She doesn’t break. Instead, she begins to plan.

* * *

Jyn dreams of being rescued.

It doesn’t happen the same way each time. Sometimes, it’s Bodhi and Chirrut and Baze who come for her, shooting all of the guards and breaking down the bars of her cell. Sometimes it’s a faceless rebel, someone she doesn’t know, but this time, she doesn’t hit them with a shovel and cooperates.

Sometimes Cassian comes to get her. Those are both the best and worst kind of dreams. But when she wakes up, the pain of his loss aches even more strongly for the rest of the day.

Realistically, she knows that no one is coming to save her. The only way she’s getting out of this prison is if she breaks herself out. And that’s exactly what she intends to do.

They put Jyn to work hours, days, weeks after. She doesn’t know how long she’s been here. It all starts to blend together -- she sleeps, she eats, she’s tortured. There’s no such thing as day and night in a windowless cell. Sometimes, she’s left in darkness for hours on end then suddenly subjected bright light when all she wants to do is rest.

Wobani is a labor camp, so it’s not surprising when she’s eventually dragged out of her room and placed on a convoy. She scans the faces of the other prisoners, hoping to recognize someone. Maybe someone is here from the Rebellion, looking to break someone else out. She doesn’t know if she’s grateful or disappointed when she doesn’t find anyone familiar.

Nobody talks to her, taking special care to avoid being too close. She wonders if there’s rumors being spread around at night, spoken only in hushed whispers. _She’s a rebel spy. Got her locked up top. Sometimes I can hear her screaming._

But the lack of human contact, of being treated like she doesn’t exist, echoes faintly of her life before Rogue One. Back then, that’s how she wanted it, but it’s been a long time since her heart has ached this fiercely.

She’s sent to the farms on the first couple days. It’s the easiest job at Wobani, and she’s sure that she’s only given it because of the torture she’s been put through. It’s not something she’s thankful for, but the work is mindless and she completes it with a ruthless efficiency. There’s something extremely satisfying in hitting the ground as hard as she can with her shovel.

And while she doesn’t know when the guards will take her back to the droids and the man in white, she knows they will. The Empire needs all the labor it can get, so she’s put to work like any other prisoner. But she’s got information and they know it. She’s not stupid enough to think that the torture is over just because they’ve given her a change of scenery.

The droids barely leave a mark on her. Most of the pain comes from a needle or electricity. Her arm hurts, and there’s a makeshift bandage around it but she doesn’t remember why. She doesn’t look underneath it, only at the blood that’s staining the fabric red. A part of her wants it to get infected.

The biggest issue is that Jyn’s thoughts are scattered. Messy. The torture leaves more mental marks than physical. Some mornings it’s hard to remember what’s happened to her, so she runs through it again and again until she gets it right.

_My name is Jyn Erso. My father’s name is Galen and my mother’s name is Lyra. I lived with Saw Gerrera until I was sixteen. I’m with the Rebellion now. I was on Scarif with Rogue One -- Bodhi, Baze, Chirrut, K2-SO, and --_

_Fuck._

_My name is Jyn Erso. My father’s is Galen and my mother’s is Lyra. I lived with Saw Gerrera. I’m a rebel. I was on Scarif. My team is Rogue One -- Bodhi, Baze, Chirrut, K2-SO, and. . .Cassian._

It’s hard to think sometimes. She loses focus easily, trains of thoughts stopping suddenly and without warning. She forgets small details such as the last time she’s slept or eaten. But she hasn’t broken yet.

Most of her concentration goes into making an escape plan. The one she has is disorganized -- it involves her hijacking the convoy, driving it to the hangar, and stealing a ship without dying. The likelihood of it succeeding is low. She can imagine what Kay would say in response to it, something along the lines of _“There is only a 12% chance of success, Jyn Erso. That is low. You will probably die.”_

Probably. But if there’s even a small chance she’ll get out of here, she’ll run the risk. And if she fails, well, that wouldn’t be so bad either.

All that’s left is to wait and find an opportunity. It comes a couple days later.

The lights switch on, signaling what Jyn assumes is morning. It’s more consistent now that she’s working. She groans, rubbing at her eyes and wiping off her sweaty forehead. It’s so kriffing hot in her cell and her arm hurts more than normal. But she doesn’t have time to dwell on it because she’s up on her feet as soon as the guards start unlocking the door.

She stumbles out of her cell and is taken downstairs, where she’s pushed into a line behind the other prisoners. A pair of binders are slapped on her wrists as they’re hustled outdoors. The air feels heavy and there’s a cloud of smoke rising over the horizon, but at least it’s not raining like it did yesterday. When she’s pushed toward the smog, she nearly slips in the mud, but doesn’t let her confusion show. Maybe they’ve finally realized she’s not going to talk and assigned her to a more permanent job on the work rooster.

She’s still wary. The warden could be trying to catch her off guard in a change of schedule. It’s likely he’ll visit her cell tonight.

The truck to the factory is silent. Not even the stormtroopers talk among themselves, instead choosing to sit with their rifles trained on the prisoners. She doesn’t look at them, bowing her head and resting her elbows on her knees in an attempt to get comfortable.

The drive to the factory is shorter than it is to the farm. That’s good. If she can manage to sneak out and grab the convoy, then that takes precious minutes off of her escape route. And if she needs to run, there’s a small chance she’ll make it without being shot in the back.

Jyn’s placed at the front of the assembly line. Her job is to shift through the spare parts and toss anything that can’t be salvaged before they’re melted down. The whole process is very reminiscent of the first time she was at Wobani, and she thinks that the warden must have a strange sense of humor in assigning her here again. It’s boring work, but not tedious, and she soon finds herself falling into a rhythm.

Still, she keeps one eye at the task at hand and the other watching the guards circle. If she’s lucky, then one of the prisoners on the other side of the line will mess something up and their attention will go to them. Once their focus is elsewhere, she can sneak out the back. The hard part is going to be taking out the guards who will inevitably guarding the convoy. She’s not certain she can do it in the state she’s in, but Saw Gerrera didn’t raise a quitter.

The hours pass. Her back begins to ache from being hunched over the conveyor belt. Every so often her fingers slip on a piece of metal -- her hands are shaky, too shaky. She wonders if she’s going to be the one who drops something or if anyone is going to mess up at all. That would mean another night in her cell and another night spent as a prisoner.

Her fingers tighten around the screw she’s holding. Then the wall farthest away from her explodes.

For a second, Jyn can’t do anything except stare at the place where concrete used to be. Smoke fills her lungs and she coughs, pulling the front of her jumpsuit up over her mouth. Vaguely, she can see blaster fire through the haze and that’s all the motivation she needs to get the hell out of there.

As soon as the stormtroopers run out of the factory to investigate, Jyn bolts in the other direction, shouldering her way through the crowds of prisoners. It’s chaos. Everyone has the same idea as she does, hoping to get free, hoping to escape this godforsaken planet.

_“Hope?”_

_“Yeah. Rebellions are built on hope.”_

She doesn’t really believe in hope. Not anymore, not since Tamsye Prime.

She forces her way out the door and stops only briefly to assess her surroundings. The factory is farther away from the hangar than she originally anticipated but it’s not far enough where she’d need to steal the convoy. Good thing, too -- a squad of ‘troopers is using it for cover as they fire back at the intruders.

The ship looks vaguely familiar, though she doesn’t dwell on it. It’s the kind of distraction she’s been waiting for, so she doesn’t linger. Jyn pushes herself in a sprint, but it only takes a few seconds before sweat is pouring down her temples and her lungs constrict.

 _Something is wrong._ The ground spins underneath her feet and she has to blink rapidly to clear her head. _Why can’t I breathe?_

She’s never had this much trouble running before. But the pain needs to shoved down, back in the cave along with all of the other things she’s locked up there. She just needs to reach the hangar bay. It’s only a little bit farther.

_Run, Jyn._

It’s not the first time she’s thankful for Saw’s intensive training. She’s had to escape tighter situations with worse injuries so she knows that she can make it. And she’s not going to quit, just slow down a little. Pause to catch her breath.

She stumbles, then stops. Places her hands on her knees and tries to breathe, sucking down all of the air she can get. Two seconds later, and she’s back on her feet, arms pumping --

and then she’s stumbling forward, caught in another explosion and knocked to the ground in the blast. Scrambling to her feet quickly, she risks a quick look behind her and her eyes widen at the sight. The ship is in flames, and when she squints, she can see bodies surrounding it, but she doesn’t know who’s dead. It’s too far away.  

“Fuck,” she breathes out, then doesn’t waste another thought on it. The remaining stormtroopers will be rounding up the other prisoners soon, likely shooting a couple of them to make an example. That’s not something she wants to get caught in. She’s leaving Wobani _today_ , one way or another.

She resumes running, though now it’s more a slow jog. It’s too difficult to go any faster. Her necklace, the one Cassian made for her, feels tight around her neck, as if it’s cutting off her air. She ignores the feeling, reaching up to grab it with one hand. Immediately, she’s comforted.

_Almost there. I’m sorry, Cass._

In the distance, she sees a ‘trooper. She ducks reflexively, scanning the area for some sort of weapon but nothing is going to stop a blaster bolt right at her head. However, when she looks up again, there’s nothing there.

Well. She can’t help but be a little relieved, despite what seeing things means.

The hangar isn’t much farther away, and she makes it in a few stumbling breaths. She pauses at the entrance, leaning up against the door to stay standing. When she rights herself, she scans the room. There’s not as many ships here as she hoped, but there’s got to be something here that she can fly.

“Jyn! Force, is that you?”

Before she can react, someone’s grabbing her from behind. Their arms are too tight and too restricting, so she shoves them off blindly, and staggers back. Her vision is blurry, but she can only just make out the figure in front of her raising his arms in surrender.

“Jyn? It’s me -- uh, it’s Bodhi!”

Her mind clears and a flush rises up in her cheeks. “Bodhi! I’m sorry. I panicked,” It’s cloudy and there’s a cool breeze, but she still feels too warm, as if the sun is beating down on her. She didn’t notice a change in temperature from outdoors to the hangar, but it’s possible. “I didn’t. . .”

_Recognize you. Didn’t think I’d run into anyone here._

She wavers and Bodhi is at her side in an instant, steadying her with a gentle hand curled around her elbow. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” she answers, but her tongue feels heavy. “What -- what are you doing here?”

It’s a coincidence. It has to be. Some sort of mission the Rebellion gave them. There isn’t any other explanation why he’s here right now. Maybe it’s to break someone else out of here. Maybe he’s just a hallucination. But there’s no way he could have known Solange took her back here.

For a moment, she panics. What if he’s a prisoner, just like her? It’s possible. The ‘troopers could have traced the coms back to the ship and taken him --

Bodhi grips her shoulders tightly. “Hey. Easy, easy! It’s all right. Don’t panic, okay?” He looks over his shoulder worriedly then glances back at her. “C’mon, Jyn, just breathe.”

“Why are you here, Bodhi?” Jyn says softly. _Are you real? Are you really here?_ “What’s going on?”

“We’re rescuing you, of course,” Chirrut says, rounding the corner with Baze at his back. He grins at her, shouldering his smoking laser cannon. “I think that’s obvious. Isn’t it, dear?”

That must have been their ship, she realizes. And they’re not dead -- those must have been stormtrooper bodies caught in the explosion. She sways, dizzy with relief. They’re _alive._

If they had died for her like Cassian --

“Good to see you, little sister,” Baze responds, clapping her fondly on the shoulder. "Echo Base isn’t nearly the same without you.”

“It’s not.” Chirrut agrees. “There is a lot less trouble when you are not around. It’s not as fun.” Bodhi shifts and wraps his arm around her waist. At that, Chirrut frowns suddenly and leans forward to press his hand against her forehead. “I don’t need my sight to know that you’re fading.”

They don’t know, she realizes. How could they? Bodhi peers at something over Chirrut’s head and for a moment she panics. Is he looking for Cassian? Does he think he’s here too is she going to have to tell them that he’s dead?

“I’m fine,” she responds, shaking her head and deciding she’ll deal with that problem later. There are more pressing issues to take care of now. She moves out of Bodhi’s grip and starts to climb into the nearest ship. It looks barely big enough to hold the four of them but it’s going to have to do. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

“We can’t leave without Cassian. He's still doing a sweep of the factory.”

Jyn freezes, glances down over her shoulder at Bodhi. Her hand is gripping the railing so tight that her knuckles are turning white. “What did you just say?”

That’s when Cassian comes running up to them, blaster in hand. This time, Jyn knows she’s hallucinating because this is impossible. This has to be some sort of fever dream.

But for some reason, he doesn’t disappear when she looks away, not like the stormtrooper did.

His left arm is in a sling and there are bandages peeking out from underneath his collar. He’s panting and there’s sweat beading up on his temples, but other than that, he looks _alive._ There isn’t any blood on his shirt and there’s no hole in his chest. Jyn takes a step back, retreating into the ship. If she’s seeing things, then she’s not going to last much longer. They need to leave _now_.

“We need to get out of here,” he says. “Reinforcements are on the way. I couldn’t find her, but I think -- “

Baze shifts. That’s when Cassian sees her and rushes over to the ship. He reaches up to cup her face with his good hand. He looks surprised, as if she shouldn’t be standing there. She can’t move, only look down at him. “ _Jyn!_ You’re all right!”

His grip feels so real. The touch of his fingertips against her skin, the feel of his thumbs stroking her cheekbones. He scans her for injuries, eyes pausing on the bandage on her arm and the state that she’s currently in.

All she can do is reach a shaky arm out to him. He grasps her hand in his own and holds it to his heart. She can feel it beating underneath his shirt but it shouldn’t be. The last time she saw him was dead on the ground on Tamsye Prime.

“Cass -- “ she tries to say, but the pounding in her ears is suddenly too loud and her heart is thumping too fast. It’s getting harder and harder to breathe. When her knees give out, Cassian is the only thing that keeps her from falling to the ground. Vaguely, before she fades completely, she feels herself being gathered into his arms.

Later, once she’s more coherent, she tells herself she passed out because of the fever, not because she saw a ghost.

 

Jyn wakes to the sound of praying.

“I am one with the Force. The Force is with me. I am one with the Force. The Force is with me.”

She opens her eyes, still crusty from sleep. She can feel the humming of the engines through the cot that she’s laying on. The room she’s in is small, most likely one of the crew’s quarters. She’s no longer in her prison jumpsuit, instead in a shirt and a pair of pants that are much too big for her and smell like Cassian.

Chirrut is sitting on a stool next to her, eyes open but not looking at her. When he notices her attention, however, he smiles.

“It’s about time you woke up, little sister. I was getting impatient.”

“Yeah,” Jyn grunts, shifting so she can prop herself up on her elbows. Her arm feels stiff, but it doesn’t hurt as much anymore. At a closer inspection, she sees the bacta patch on it. She worries her bottom lip between her teeth, then says, “What happened?”

In his usual fashion, Chirrut doesn’t answer her question. Instead, he tells her, “The Force moves around you, Jyn Erso. Not as strongly, but I can feel it still. I believe that is why you are here with us today.”

She frowns at that, her brow furrowed in confusion. “But my necklace -- the kyber crystal -- it was destroyed on Scarif.”

“It was,” he agrees. “Your mother gave it to you. Lyra Erso.”

Jyn doesn’t remember ever telling him that, but she’s used to him knowing things that he shouldn’t. “Yes. Back on Lah’mu.” _Before she left me to save Papa and the stormtroopers killed her for it._

A memory comes to her, unbidden. Back in her cell, when the man in white and the droids had tortured her, she remembers praying. And while she doesn’t believe in the Force, not really, the words had held a measure of comfort.

And she hadn’t broken. Not once.

Chirrut hums, clearly thinking but doesn’t decide to share his thoughts with her. Instead, he answers her earlier question. “You passed out. The Captain insisted on carrying you here, but didn’t make it too far with his bad shoulder. So Baze took you the rest of the way.” He wags a finger at her, mock-accusing. “You’re lucky. Baze hasn’t carried _me_ like that in years.”

Jyn reaches up to the hollow of her throat where her necklace lies, gripping it tightly. “So it wasn’t a dream, then.”

“No.”

She lets out a heavy sigh. Her free hand curls in the blanket and she squeezes her eyes shut to warn off a wave of dizziness. “ _Cassian_ \-- he’s not dead.”

Chirrut’s smile is soft. He reaches over to grab her hand with one of his own. “He has barely left your side. I told him to get some rest a couple hours ago.” he tilts his head to the side. “I could go get him, if you’d like.”

“No, let him sleep,” she rasps, then swallows. Her heart beats a staccato rhythm in her chest, but she pushes the blankets away and stands on unsteady feet. Chirrut moves to steady her. “Thank you.”

He pats her hand once. “For you, little sister, anything.”

Her face warms at the sentiment and she has to duck her head to hide her blush. It’s been a long time ( _too long)_ since she’s had something this -- something that feels like _family._

Chirrut hadn’t lied -- Cassian is nowhere to be found. Her heart stops for a moment, looking back and forth for any sign of him, any sign that he’s alive, until she remembers what Chirrut said. _This is real. He’s alive._

Baze is resting up against the wall, eyes closed. When she enters the main room, however, he grins at her. “Up on your feet already, I see.”

“I’ve gotten enough sleep,” she responds easily, though she has to brace herself up against the wall for a second before continuing on to the cockpit. Next to Bodhi, the copilot’s seat is empty and she sinks into it slowly.

“You’re awake,” Bodhi says quickly, turning to her with wide eyes. He must not have heard her walk in. “Are you -- are you feeling any better?”

“Mostly,” Jyn says with a slight roll of her shoulders. She doesn’t tell him how it’s hard to close her eyes without seeing Wobani in the darkness or her thoughts are scattered and lost, even though he might understand all too well.

( _that’s another thing she can’t forgive saw for. bodhi never deserved the bor gullet.)_

“Good. That’s -- good.”

They sit in companionable silence for a few minutes. She watches as he flies, his hands steady when they’re normally shaky. This is where he belongs -- at the helm of a ship. And the Rebellion gives him exactly that.

She hates to break the quiet, but the words slip out of her lips before she can stop them. “What happened? Back on Tamsye Prime?”

“I, uh -- “ he pauses, clenches his hands in his lap. Jyn wants to reach out to soothe him, but doesn’t move. “I heard it all. Cassian turned his comlink on at the beginning and I came as fast as I could. You -- you were already gone but Cassian -- he was -- “

He stops, takes a breath, continues. “I patched him up the best I could but I couldn’t -- “ he turns to her. “I’m sorry I wasn’t quick enough. I should have been -- “

This time she reaches out to him and steadies his hands beneath her own. “It’s not your fault, Bodhi,” she says firmly. When he opens his mouth to interrupt, she cuts him off. “You saved Cassian. Thank you.”

_Thank you for helping him when I couldn’t._

“I’m just sorry you had to go through all of that.”

“Yeah,” Jyn breathes out, suddenly weary. She stands, claps a hand on Bodhi’s shoulder. “Yeah, me too.”

She makes it back to her room on her own, waving off both Chirrut and Baze as they stand to help her. Once there, she falls back on her cot roughly, resisting the urge to bury her head in her hands and cry.

She has a few moments to herself before Cassian bursts through the door. Her head shoots up by his sudden entrance, startled. His hair is mussed and his eyes are still half-closed from sleep. He offers her a small smile before covering a yawn with the back of his hand.

“Sorry I wasn’t here when you woke up,” he explains sheepishly, snagging the stool with his foot and dragging it closer to the bed. “I had only planned on getting an hour or two of sleep, but I, ah, slept a bit longer.”

Her mouth moves, but she has a hard time getting the words out. She swallows, “Don’t worry about it. You should still be resting.”

“I told Chirrut to wake me if anything changed, _cariño_ ,” he replies, meeting her gaze so strongly she has to look away. _This is not a dream._ “How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine,” she whispers, picking a thread in her sheets with her ragged nails. She lets out a shaky exhale, then meets his eyes. He looks alarmed to see that they’re filled with tears. “Cass. You’re real. . .right? This isn’t -- this isn’t a dream. You’re really here.”

Immediately he wraps his good arm around her shoulders, bringing her to his chest. She clutches the front of his shirt, trying to choke back her sobs. “I’m here, Jyn,” he murmurs, pressing kisses into her hair. That only makes her cry harder. “I’m real. This isn’t a dream. I’m here.”

“You were dead,” she chokes, the front of his shirt growing wet from her tears. He shushes her, rubbing circles on her back. “I heard you go down and -- and you were _dead._ You were dead and I -- _I_ wanted to die too -- “

“I am so sorry,” he murmurs, his voice cracking. “I am so sorry, Jyn.”

“S’not your fault. It’s mine -- if I hadn’t -- “ Hadn’t what? Pissed off a bunch of Imperials? “You got shot and -- Stars, Cass, that shouldn’t have _happened._ ”

“You didn’t shoot me, Jyn. It’s not your fault. I’m sorry we couldn’t get you out sooner, that you had to go through -- go through all that because of it.” She can hear the anger in his voice, but it’s not at her.

Eventually, she pulls back, wiping her tears and snot off her face with the back of her hand. “I ruined your shirt,” she mutters, wringing her hands in her lap. A broken laugh wrenches it’s way out of her throat. “Sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” he says, grabbing her hands. His thumb rubs back and forth on her skin. “I have plenty of shirts back on Hoth.”

She reaches for him, tugging him upward. “Come here.”

“I’m not sure there’s enough room for the two of us,” he chuckles, but complies, sliding in next to her. His bad shoulder is propped up against the wall and he wraps his good arm around her shoulder, then presses a small kiss to her forehead. She curls into his embrace. “Your fever’s gone down. That’s good. I need to check your arm again, if that’s all right.”

“That’s fine,” she replies, then watches with poorly hidden interest as he peels back the bacta patch. There’s four holes right in the center of her bicep, too neat and precise for them to be from a blaster. They’re not bleeding, but the skin around them is red and cracked.

Cassian hisses between his teeth, rubbing his thumb over the wounds gently. Jyn flinches and tugs her arm free, cradling it to her chest.

“It’s still infected,” he says as she smoothes the bacta patch back over it. “We don’t have the supplies to treat it on the ship. I’ve given you something to get your fever down, but -- “

“Thank you,” Jyn replies softly. “I’ll be fine, Cassian.”

He gives her a pained glance. “Did they. . .they tortured you.” He states it so evenly, but Jyn can see the hurt in his eyes.

“Not much. I’m fine.”

“Jyn, don’t -- “ he pauses, clenches his jaw. “Don’t lie. Not to me.”

She takes a deep breath, then releases it slowly. “Yeah. Mostly droids. I don’t remember a lot of it.” _I remember too much of it._

Cassian’s grip tightens around her shoulder and she presses her face into his good shoulder, closing her eyes and struggling not to think about it. “I’m sorry, _cariño_. I should never have let them take you.”

The ridiculousness of his statement shocks her; she lifts her head up and lets out a startled gasp. “Cass, you -- you were -- “ _You were dead._ “There was nothing you could have done.”

“Could have gotten back up,” he mutters, pulling her back toward him.

“No,” she says. “No, you couldn’t have. You shouldn’t have -- “ _Survived._ "The 'trooper was aiming at your heart. How did you. . .?"

“Lucky for me, the ‘trooper that shot me had bad aim,” he says. “Shot a bit too high and just barely missed my heart. The only reason they didn’t come back and shoot me in the head was because you tackled their commander and it took all four of them to knock you out. So -- thank you, for that.”

Jyn offers a small smile at that, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. The rage and loss she had felt at that moment are two things that she never wants to feel ever again.

“By the time Bodhi got there, you were already gone, but he managed to patch me up enough to get me back to base. I spent a week in a bacta tank, and another in the medbay until they released me, then we left to come find you. We, uh, might be in a bit of trouble when we get back.”

“Oh?” she says, raising an eyebrow.

“We didn’t really get _permission_ to leave,” he replies with a slow, tired smile. “But none of us were going to leave you behind.”

“We have to live up to the name of Rogue One somehow,” Jyn says. Gently, she unwraps herself from his arm and pulls him close to her instead. Cassian rests his head on her chest and she runs her fingers through his hair, careful not to touch his bandages snaking up his neck. “It’s good to have you back, Cassian.”

“I’m glad we found you,” he whispers, eyes closing. It’s not long before his breathing evens out, his face calmer than she’s seen it in a long while. She smoothes down the hair at the nape of his neck, wondering the last time he’s slept properly. He looks awful, unshaven with dark bags underneath his eyes. He needs to rest if his shoulder is going to heal properly.

Despite all the sleep she’s gotten already, Jyn feels her eyes begin to flutter shut. She doesn’t fight it, placing her head on top of his and closing her eyes.

When she wakes up hours later still holding Cassian, she smiles, brushing away a small tear that had fallen unknowingly. _This is real_ , she realizes, closing her eyes again and inhaling deeply. _This isn’t a dream. You’re both safe._

And, for the first time since Tamsye Prime, she finally feels at peace.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a short epilogue.

“You need to sleep, Jyn.”

“I am sleeping,” she murmurs, but with a coherency that only proves his earlier statement correct. She’s curled up next to him, with her fingers wound tightly in the material of his shirt. Every so often, her eyes flicker open as if to make sure that he’s still laying next to her and every time her breath hitches, she tries to pull him closer to her.

From experience, Cassian knows what she’s going through. He wonders how many times her senses played tricks on her in that little cell on Wobani and how many times she thought she saw him or heard him or touched him before realizing that he wasn’t there.

She’s barely talked about it and he won’t push her; she’ll talk when she’s ready. But he’s still worried that she’s going to lose herself right in front of him and there isn’t going to be anything he can do to help her.

_(and he hates it. hates how he couldn’t come for her sooner and hates how he doesn’t know how to help her now.)_

“You’re not,” he says, tugging her closer to him and trying not to let his anxiety slip into his voice. “You’ve barely slept since we’ve gotten back.”

“Neither have you,” she retorts. Her whole body tenses, but she doesn’t move away from him. “I’m not stupid, Cassian. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

“Jyn -- “

His argument dies on his lips because he knows it’s true. The last time he got a good night’s sleep since Tamsye Prime had been on the flight back to Hoth, and that had been almost two weeks ago.

Rogue One’s grounded. The mission to rescue Jyn had been unsanctioned and even the heroes of Scarif couldn’t escape repercussions for their actions. Nobody had been particularly upset when they had returned home with Jyn in tow, but they could only get away with breaking Alliance rules so many times. And while it feels weird to sit around and do nothing -- he can’t remember the last time he’s relaxed -- it’s the kind of break he’s needed.

The kind of break that they’ve all needed.

So, instead of lying to her and saying that yes, he is getting enough sleep, he replies as honestly as he can muster (because trust goes both ways, right?), “No, I’m not.”

Jyn lifts her head up, studying his face. It’s easy to see through her mask now that he knows her, and as her eyes widen ever so slightly, he can tell she’s shocked by the blatant truth in his answer. She had expected him to put up a fight but he’s too tired to do anything except be honest with her.

It’s a defense mechanism -- Jyn wants him to argue with her, wants him to get exasperated and push her away because _she’s_ hurting and doesn’t want him to feel obligated to take care of her. She’s trying to build her walls back up so it won’t sting as much when he leaves her. It pains him a little, that she thinks he will, but that’s nothing compared to what she must be feeling right now.

Cassian swallows the lump in his throat and continues, “I’m right here, okay? I’ll be here when you wake up. You can sleep now.”

Her fingers twine in his shirt, right over the spot on his shoulder where he got shot. Her breath hitches. “I’m not the only one who needs rest, Cass.”

“I’ll sleep when you do,” he promises, but they both know that’s a lie. Still, Jyn lets him pull her to his chest once more and when her eyes flutter closed, his do too.

But he doesn’t sleep. He won’t admit it to her, but he’s worried that she won’t be there when he wakes up either. That this whole conversation is the result of some drug-induced fog and when he wakes up, he’ll be in the medbay with a hole in his chest and she’ll be in a cell light years away from him.

He stays awake, just in case.

“It’s hard,” Jyn says suddenly, when it’s been quiet for so long that he almost believes she had fallen asleep. “Surviving.”

His chest pangs and he squeezes his eyes shut tight for a moment, then opens them to look down at her. She’s not looking at him, instead picking at a loose piece of thread from the collar of his shirt. His voice is rough when he agrees. “Yeah.”

“Sometimes I wish. . .” her breath catches and in the dim light of their bedroom, he thinks that maybe her eyes are a little wet. But when she blinks, they’re dry. “Sometimes I wish we would have died on that beach. I know that’s terrible, but -- “

“But we should have,” he finishes for her, since he knows what she’s going to say. She lets out a long, shuddering sigh and he thinks she’s relieved she didn’t have to say it out loud.

“We should have,” she whispers. “I think we should have.”

And Cassian understands. There’s days where he feels like he doesn’t deserve to be alive, not when so many others are dead. Yet here they are. They survived when they shouldn’t have so might as well make the best of it.

“But,” he manages, with a lightness he doesn’t feel, “if we had died, I would have only been able to hold you like this once.”

“It wasn’t holding so much as me propping you up,” Jyn says wryly. There’s a hint of laughter in her voice, but it’s not convincing. Still, it’s better than nothing.

“If we had died,” he continues with a mischievous smile, “I wouldn’t have been able to do this.” He presses a kiss to the top of her head, good arm tightening around her shoulders. “Or this,” he kisses the tip of her nose, grinning when she laughs and tries to squirm away, “or this.” His lips meet hers gently at first, but the kiss deepens when she shifts to wrap her arms around his neck and run her fingers through his hair.

They break apart a minute later, both panting. There’s a spark in Jyn’s eyes that Cassian hasn’t seen in a long time. “Sleep,” he says softly, brushing a stray piece of hair off of her cheek. “I’ve got you.”

“Only if you do too,” she replies, brushing her thumb over his cheekbone. “We’re in this together, Cassian Andor.”

“All the way, Jyn Erso,” he swears, resting his chin on the top of her head. He waits until her breathing has evened out to repeat it. “All the way.”

He doesn’t sleep, not that night. But Jyn does, and to him, that’s all that matters.

_(she finds him snoring softly on her shoulder the next evening when they’re trying to watch a film, so she takes the blanket and wraps it tighter around his sleeping form. this time, she watches out for him. after all, he’s not the only one who worries.)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this wasn't planned but i was inspired by a dream so here we go! hope y'all enjoyed!

**Author's Note:**

> i'm currently posting this on my way to college (send help lol). thank u all for reading!


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